Something to Believe In
by starry-oblivion
Summary: During the loud and outlandish Christmas season, a frail young girl helps Raphael realize that there really is more to the holidays than glitzy lights and empty wishes.


"Remind me again why we're doin' this."

Leonardo gave Raphael a sideways glance. "Charity. Fellowship. Goodwill towards men. That sort of thing." Michelangelo stepped up besides them, hauling the sack of toys over his shoulder. "_And_ goodwill towards turtles," he added.

"Okay, I understand the whole 'spirit of giving,'" Raphael conceded, having apparently determined to block Michelangelo out. "But c'mon, let's be reasonable here. Wouldn't it have been easier to shove these toys in a box and mail 'em to the hospital? It sure beats trekkin' through the snow and potentially scarin' a bunch 'a little kids."

"You know how much this means to April," Donatello chimed in, stepping alongside of Raphael. "She's been buying these toys and wrapping them up since October. But hearing about the car accident her sister was in, well, she and Casey didn't have much of a choice but to go over there and help her out."

"And gifts are tons more exciting when they're given out by Santa's little helpers," Michelangelo threw in. "A little green always lightens up the festivities."

Raphael grumbled and hunched over, his free hand deep within his pocket. "I just think that it's pretty crummy that we're wading through the snow on Christmas Eve when we could be in our nice warm beds, gettin' some shuteye. But hey, what do I know?" Unable to resist, Michelangelo answered, "Not a whole lot."

Quickly stepping in between Raphael and Michelangelo before their hotheaded brother began a skirmish out here in public, Leonardo told them, "Lighten up, guys. We're almost there. See? We can see it from here."

The other three looked up and, sure enough, they could see the tall structure of Brooklyn's Woodhull Hospital coming into view. Raphael shuddered at the sight of it. Hospitals. He never liked hospitals. He had only ever been inside a handful of them, and it was never pretty. The smell of antiseptics and stale excrement always hung in the air. And now that they were going to the children's wing disguised as holiday gnomes or some such nonsense, Raphael had to repress a growl at the thought of a bunch of screaming kids tugging at his stupid clothes all night. _It could be worse_, he granted to himself. _I could be stuck in the lair with Splinter while he watches _It's a Wonderful Life_ for the billionth time._

They got to the hospital, and the bright decorative lights and cheery holiday music made Raphael cringe. Raphael didn't mind the holidays, so long as it was in small doses. Sitting on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and watching Michelangelo peek in every corner as he wonders where his gifts were hidden could be fun. Being bombarded with plastic Santas and pop versions of classic songs was a completely different story. He stayed in the background as Leonardo and Donatello told the receptionist that they were the O'Neil party. As she directed them on where to go, Raphael watched as Michelangelo quickly became engrossed in a Christmas movie in the waiting room. It looked like _Jingle All the Way._ Raphael rolled his eyes. _Schwarzenegger_, he thought as he followed Leonardo and Donatello to the elevators and something on the screen exploded in a shower of toys. _What a sellout_.

"Yo Mikey," he called to his brother as the three of them got into the elevator. Michelangelo started and looked back at them. "Move it along, will ya?" With a grin to the receptionist who was looking at them oddly, Michelangelo clutched his elf hat to his head and ran to join his group just as the elevator doors closed.

"Man, is this gonna be a great experience or what," Michelangelo enthused as the elevator rose to the children's wing. "The kids are gonna love us." Putting his sack of toys down and massaging his shoulder, Raphael countered with, "As long as they don't love us so much that they wanna tear us to pieces, I'm good."

"Lighten up, Mr. Sourpuss," Michelangelo told him as the doors opened and they stepped out. "It's Christmas Eve! Put a smile on your face, okay?" Walking towards the lounge of the children's wing, the sounds of joyous screaming and of a general ruckus assaulted the costumed turtles. "I'd rather put on some body armor," Raphael remarked.

His comment went unheard, however. As soon as they stepped into the lounge, what seemed like a single loud cry of excitement came from nearly forty young children. Leonardo was forced to take a step back as a little girl rushed at him, proclaiming, "Blue's my favorite color! Blue's my favorite color!" The turtle found that he could do little else but laugh and pick the girl up, allowing her to rustle through the holiday bag he was carrying.

"Merry Christmas, kids!" Donatello called out. He knelt down on the floor, opening his gift sack and rummaging through it as a score of young children crowded around him, exclaiming over how they were so glad that they had come, how they were sure that Santa hadn't forgotten about them this year. Seeing one little boy say this as he adjusted a bandage around his head, Donatello smiled a bittersweet smile and gave the injured youngster the first present.

"On the seventh day of Christmas old Mikey gave to me," Michelangelo sang out, albeit slightly off-key. As he crooned, he took out various gifts from his bag and shook them, handing them off to the enthusiastic children that followed him as he guessed what was inside each wrapped-up box. "Seven Lego adventure sets, six Transformers fighters, _fiiiive computer gaaaames!_ Four stuffed animals, three Barbie dolls, two sets of Yu-Gi-Oh cards, and a brand new Robo-Sapiens!"

Raphael kept quiet, trying his best not to voice his gripes here in front of the children. The lounge was kept unbearably hot, giving him a vaguely nauseous feeling. This was _not_ going to be a good night for him. Nevertheless, he forced something that didn't look like a scowl onto his face and conceded to hand out presents. The children he encountered were polite, but that was mostly because they could sense that he wasn't going to be anywhere near as energetic as his cohorts and they didn't want to spend too much with a grumpy green elf.

It didn't take too long for Raphael to begin to feel somewhat out of place. Looking around, he saw that Leonardo had been roped into a tea party with the little girl who had attached herself to him upon his entrance. Donatello was helping a large group of children assemble what was beginning to look like an indoor playhouse. And Michelangelo was getting into a good-natured small-scale war with three boys over who could play with the Robo-Sapiens first. Raphael didn't know what was worse; the idea of being forced to collaborate with the screaming twerps, or not even being asked if he wanted to participate.

"Would you like a Christmas cookie?" Raphael turned to the sound of the voice. A young nurse was offering him a near-empty tray of tree-shaped cookies. They didn't look exceedingly appetizing, but it seemed as though they were simply the bottom of the barrel. Trying his best to maintain his civil air, Raphael shook his head. "No thanks. But can ya tell me where the bathroom is? I need some cold water splashed on my face."

"Sure," she said, motioning towards the corridor. "You can follow me. It's on the way to kitchen, so I might as well get a refill." Raphael followed after her, only dimly realizing that she was referring to her tray. Once they were in the relative silence of the hallway, Raphael asked, "Those kids sure go crazy over anything with sugar in them, huh?"

The nurse laughed as she shook her head. "We don't make our cookies with sugar, since so many of our children are diabetic. And besides, most of these cookies went towards your friend Mikey."

Raphael allowed himself to let out a single laugh. "Good thing they ain't got sugar, then. Mikey'd keep me up all night." The nurse tried to keep Raphael in conversation, and he allowed her to. Since he didn't have the sounds of yelling and new toys being played with ringing in his head, he found that talking to her was easy enough. He really was just a simple kind of guy, after all.

After a moment, Raphael stopped, peering inside a room. A small child was lying on a bed, blinking absently towards the window. The nurse stopped in front of Raphael, asking what was wrong. Not wanting to appear crass, he whispered, "What's up with that kid in there? Why isn't he in the main room with the others?"

The nurse looked down after realizing who he was talking about. "That's actually a _she_. She's bound to her room because we don't think she's healthy enough to be moved around. You see, Raphael… she just underwent a very strong dose of chemotherapy this morning."

"Oh," Raphael said quietly. He continued to observe the silent child within the room. All of her hair was gone, and she was very, very thin and pale. Something inside of him seemed to shift, and he realized that this was a rare moment of him being moved by pity and sadness. "Maybe I should, uh… go get a gift for her and bring it over, then," he offered. "Should perk her up, huh?"

"You can if you want to," the nurse spoke softly. "Chances are, it won't make things easier. Her mother only gets more heartbroken any time she hears a mention of Christmas. Obviously, this hasn't been the easiest holiday for her." The two of them stood side by side in silence before she added, "The bathroom is a few doors down this hallway to the left. I'd better go and get more cookies." Raphael hardly noticed as she walked away.

He stood there, looking at the girl who seemed to be hypnotized by the blinking lights outside her window. Raphael shifted his gaze and saw her chart on the door. Rebecca Green. Her name was Rebecca Green.

Raphael took a deep breath before quietly making his way into the room. Judging by the number of machines this small girl was hooked up to, he could imagine that she was in a bad place. Chemotherapy. He had only ever heard about it through books, television, and movies, but whenever it came up, it could only mean one thing: cancer. _It ain't just a zodiac sign anymore, Doc_, he thought to himself.

He was surprised to see that there was someone else in the room. Previously obstructed from his view by a wall, an overweight woman sat in a large, uncomfortable-looking chair, dozing. Despite her heavyset figure, her face appeared haggard and her short, dark hair was lined with gray. It was a sad, sad picture, only made worse by the festive red and green blinking lights that shone on her from the window.

Raphael turned back to the girl and froze when he saw that she was staring at him. Against her white, hairless face, her blue eyes seemed uncannily frosty. He wondered what he was doing there and was about to wish her a merry Christmas before turning around and leaving, when she spoke. "Are you an elf?"

He gaped at her dumbly before realizing that she was referring to his costume. "No," he decided to answer quietly, not wanting to wake up her mother. "I'm not an elf." She seemed to take this into consideration before nodding. "That's good. Mama says we don't believe in elves."

Raphael felt a small smirk make its way to his face as he reached up to remove his hat. "Do ya believe in turtles, then?" She nodded again, and he added, "Good. Then I can get rid 'a this stupid get-up."

She remained silent as he took off the green coat and bell-tipped shoes that he had been connived into wearing for the occasion. Once the clothes were off, Raphael felt much more relaxed. Maybe it had been the lining of the ridiculous costume that had made him so ill at ease. "You're green underneath," she said blankly.

With a barely repressed chuckle, Raphael remarked, "You don't miss much, do ya, kid?" She stared at him with her large blue eyes. The solemnity in her expression mixed with the fatigue in her voice suddenly made Raphael chilled. "I miss my bed. And I miss my dog. And I miss having long brown hair, just like my sister. And I miss my sister. She's with her husband and his family, and can't afford to fly up to see us."

Taking this all in, Raphael ventured a few steps closer to her. "That's tough, kid. I'm sorry. But hey, things can't be all bad. You've got a mom who loves ya, and ya get to see some pretty interesting Christmas lights across the way." At this, Raphael glanced out the window, only to see that the red and green lights _weren't_ holiday lights, but the bulbs surrounding a liquor store across the street. "Oh. Uh… mom that loves ya. Right."

He turned back to the girl and saw that she was looking at him skeptically. "Mama doesn't really have much of a choice. We don't know where Pop went to, and Rachel doesn't call or write as much as she said she would. I'm all Mama's got right now. As for Christmas, you're barking up the wrong tree, mister. We don't celebrate Christmas."

Realizing that the surname Green was typically a Jewish name, Raphael realized his mistake. "Oy," he muttered, slapping his forehead. "I feel like a putz."

"It's okay, mister," the girl said, returning her gaze to the window. "You're not the first one. People just try to make me feel better, but they don't realize… I feel fine. It's Mama I worry about."

As the girl slowly turned her head to look at her mother, Raphael felt that odd sensation well up within him again. It wasn't pity or sadness this time; it was… something else. He wasn't sure what, but it only got more pronounced as she continued to speak.

"We're not real orthodox, so Mama used to keep a 'Hanukkah bush' in the living room and put presents under it for eight nights. Uncle Art comes over with his kids, and we used to have a week of Hanukkah parties. It makes us feel better about the fancy lights, the big trees, the Santas, and all the other things most other people have this time of year.

"…then, in October, when I got diagnosed, things were different. I used to be almost as big as Mama, but the cancer's changed me. My uncle doesn't come over with the kids anymore, because he says they get depressed looking at me. That's what I overheard him tell Mama. We had hoped things would get better in time for the holidays, but it's only gotten worse.

"Mama's working real hard on paying off all these hospital bills, and when she's not at work, she's just collapsed on that chair. It's the only time I get to see her anymore. And when she's awake… it just gets worse. She couldn't afford gifts this year. And because she's been so busy, she didn't even have the time to have her traditional holiday. So with all of this Christmas stuff everywhere lately, she's been real upset. She thinks she let me down.

"But I'm not like the other kids in the ward. I don't need presents to have a holiday. I just need… family, maybe. Love. Something to believe in. I don't know. Maybe I just need to ramble to green strangers."

At this she let out a small, dry laugh, not bothering to wipe the tear that had started to fall from her eyes. Raphael didn't know what to do. The only thing he would be able to offer her would have been a present from the lounge, but she had just said she didn't need that. As for family, love… and "something to believe in"… he couldn't provide that. "Hey," he said at last, "I'm sorry, kid. I wish there was somethin' I could do for ya, but I'm fresh outta ideas."

She looked back up at him. As she gave him a small, wan smile, Raphael suddenly remembered her name: Rebecca Green. He suddenly saw her with her long brown hair, before the chemotherapy, before the cancer. He suddenly saw the pleasantly plump little girl that she once was. And he found that he almost started to cry. Why, he didn't know. "It's okay, mister," was her response. "There's only one person who can do anything for me now, and you're definitely not Him."

Raphael opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again when he heard a sound behind him. Peering back, he saw that her mother was stirring. Quietly gathering up his shoes and hat as he slipped his coat back on, Raphael whispered, "I gotta get goin'. Don't wanna scare your mom into thinkin' that the little green men have landed."

She seemed to reach out to him, meaning to call him back, but thought better of it when she heard her mother quietly mutter something. Tip-toeing out the door, Raphael thinly said, "Happy holidays, Rebecca. I'll be thinkin' about ya." Without another word, he left the room, leaving her to wonder how he had known her name.

Once out in the corridor again, Raphael heaved a large breath and quickly slipped his shoes and hat back on. Just because a small child hadn't blinked an eye at a turtle being hidden underneath an elf's costume doesn't mean that the medical staff would behave in the same way.

"Oh, Raphael, there you are!" Looking towards the nurses' station, Raphael saw that the young nurse he had been talking to was wheeling a cart with two large trays of cookies. "Our resident baker decided to go a little overboard. I was going to enlist an intern, but since you're going back into the lounge, would you help me?"

Raphael walked over to the station, feeling a little better about the cookies and even the concept of spending the next few hours in a stuffy room with screaming kids. "Sure thing," he answered, picking up a tray. "I'll even make sure that Mikey doesn't just stuff them all in his face."

As he waited for her to set the brakes on the cart and pick up the second tray, Raphael overheard a familiar name coming from the desk at the nurses' station. "Green. Becky Green. Or, Rebecca Green, rather. Can you point us in the right direction?"

Turning around, Raphael saw a chubby but attractive young woman speaking to the head nurse. She was accompanied by a man about her age and two preteens, a boy and a girl. The adolescents were carrying two bags that seemed to be filled with gifts. The man was carrying a miniature potted pine tree, topped off with a Star of David. Raphael almost let out a laugh when he realized what it was. "A Hanukkah bush?"

The woman looked up at him quizzically before smiling politely. "Yes," she answered. "My mom's really big on them." Raphael nodded, telling her that he knew. "Lemme guess," he said. "Your name's Rachel. I just had a little talk with your sister."

"Becky's okay, then?" Rachel's eyes lit up with joy at the news. "That's so great! I heard that she wasn't doing too well. I figured I'd surprise her by not telling her Stan and I were coming, and by bringing along our cousins. We haven't seen her in ages."

Raphael felt an unusually warm smile spread across his face. He had been afraid that he would be left in his customary brooding temperament after his encounter with Rebecca Green. Yet, somehow… it looked like things were working out. Maybe somebody up there _was _keeping track of the old karmic circle. "It'll do her good," he told the family. "It'll do her a lot of good."

He offered them cookies from his tray, which the two preteens took eagerly, claiming to snag a handful for their cousin. With smiles and waves goodbye, the family went off to see their ill relative, musing over the nice—though strange-looking—elf.

"Well, it just might be that I don't know you very well, Raphael," said the young nurse as she stepped up alongside him with her tray of cookies, "but I would have to say that that's the nicest I've seen you all night. What made you finally open up?" Walking back towards the children's lounge, Raphael shrugged and smiled as he imagined how much the unexpected familial visit would mean to Rebecca and her mother.

"I guess all I needed was somethin' to believe in."


End file.
